#differences.

Hang your head child, you should be ashamed of yourself. Your father was right to walk out on you at such a young age. You have amounted to nothing but a weak, pathetic coward. Why do you possess such little willpower? The trigger is just beyond your index finger, the cylinder fully loaded. All you have to do is close your eyes, apply pressure, and then you can escape this life of monotony and solitude. It is not a hard concept to grasp, the firing of the gun, that is. It is so simple, an infant can do it.

But you, at twenty-seven years of age with a rotten log beneath your ass and an open clearing surrounding you, cannot.

The way the moonlight hugs the revolver as it lays atop your dresser and the thought of dying has kept you awake at night. Your mattress tells the story of a human throughout the years, holding the weight of the world in their hands. Many times, you have held the gun to your temple and closed your eyes, waiting for that pain to hit you. And just as many, you have lowered it again. You wonder what your mother would do if she walked in seconds before you pulled the trigger. Would she bury you, and wish she would have been intrusive earlier? Or would she be your saving grace, and in later years, wish she simply walked past your door?

These are the questions that have haunted you, but you are alone now. What will your excuse be this time?

Store the gun in the hollow of the tree trunk and head back home. You are spineless, gutless. Tell your mother that your father made the smart decision in abandoning you. That you really will become nothing but a scrap who cannot even commit an act that would make so many people happy. The world turned its back on you a long time ago, but go ahead, try to find a reason to stick around. Do not be surprised if such a reason does not exist.

Or you can carry out the alternative. Ignore the thoughts that so desperately long to press against the muzzle, open your mouth, and swallow the bullet. Let the sound of the shot echo throughout the woods as your sweetest swan song, allowing the ravens that have stared at you for the past two hours to take flight. And in the second that it takes for the hammer to strike the firing pin, sealing your fate, only one thought will escape: "Nobody would ever miss me."

Service dogs, like siblings, may share some common traits, but they can be very different.  For instance...

1) Build--Kia was slim and dainty She looked very much like a girl. MaGee is burly and furry with BIG feet. Most folks think she's a boy.

2) Kia cared what I thought, often working for only praise once she knew a skill. MaGee works for treats. PERIOD. She doesn't care if I'm happy except that I only give treats when I'm happy.

3) MaGee thinks every dog is her playmate. Kia didn't want to even see another dog from our yard, let alone in it. (Kia and I were chased twice by dogs so that colored her judgement.)

4) MaGee barked at bears in the zoo, got right up on the fence to see the monkeys and put her feet up on a wall so she could see the tortoises. Kia would usually hide behind my chair at the zoo.

5) Kia hated water! If a tennis ball was drowning, she'd reluctantly rescue it. MaGee doesn't care for baths but when we were at Longwood Gardens in PA, she tried to stick her face in every fountain and even threatened to get up close and personal with the waterlillies.